


You Are My Sunshine

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Polygamy, Singing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:10:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Glorfindel is sad, Fingon sings to him.  And then the muses just took over and now I need to do a thing by June.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I began work on this on September 25th, 2016. Then I lost it. Then I found it. Then I lost it again. Then, I found it, and thought I'd edit a bit, and then just kept writing until 3 am. It happens sometimes. But now it's done and it's here so I won't lose it again! \o/ And it includes one of the most favorite scenes I have written with Fingon in it (spoiler: it's the part right at the beginning where he just suddenly starts singing to Glorfindel - because I imagine he just does that - sings to people just because).

Fingon sat down on the floor next to Glorfindel’s feet and rested his head on the nearest knee. He threaded his arm behind Glorfindel’s legs to hug them and closed his eyes and sang to him:

You are my sunshine  
My only sunshine  
You make me happy  
When skies are grey  
You’ll never know, dear  
How much I love you  
Please don’t take   
My sunshine away

Glorfindel petted Fingon on the head, but said nothing as he set aside the letter he had reread countless times. Erestor was standing in the doorway, having followed behind Fingon, but now he joined them and sat down beside Glorfindel. His arms drew Glorfindel tightly against him without disturbing Fingon’s embrace. “So I am the sun to you, even when I am so gloomy?” Glorfindel moved his hand to Fingon’s back and rubbed it gently.

“Indeed; you are always the sun to me, even when the clouds try to hide you away,” replied Fingon. “You are bright and strong and blinding. You make things grow and you bring warmth and light, ever steady, ever moving forward, constant and reliable.”

It seemed Glorfindel would not contest this description, but now he turned his head to look upon the companion beside him. “And what of Erestor?”

“Ah, but you can read that riddle with ease,” answered Fingon as he now took Glorfindel’s hand, idle for a moment, and placed kisses upon it. “Lo, and Erestor is the moon - dark and mysterious, always changing, always moving, a wandering soul. Some days, all is revealed, and others, he is nothing more than shadow. Still, it is a quandary: Does he chase you, or do you chase him?”

“I like to think that we each begin where the other ends,” Erestor said. 

There was a pause, and Fingon sighed away the silence. “In truth, Glorfindel, you are needed, and you are loved.” Fingon relinquished Glorfindel’s hand and tightened his hold on his legs. “I need you. I need both of you, just as both the sun and the moon are needed. I would become once again cold and dark without both of you.”

Erestor coaxed Fingon from the floor and made space for him to snuggle between the sun and the moon. “I refuse to let that happen.” 

“And I have very little willpower when it comes to denying him anything,” remarked Glorfindel of Erestor to Fingon, “so I suppose I am destined to revolve around you as well.”

They were all three quiet, then, until Fingon asked, “If I find the envelope which once contained that letter, am I going to be upset?”

“I have been asked… no, I have been told by Faelion to stay away from him and his family. I was recently at the market and we crossed paths,” explained Glorfindel. “I was not about to be unpleasant, so I did wish him and his wife a good day. She did the same; he glared at me over his shoulder. This showed up today.” He grasped the letter and handed it to the others. “I am especially never to speak to his child -- soon to be children -- ever.”

“What a pompous ass.” Fingon skimmed the letter before he passed it down the line to Erestor. “Know that you were the better man, Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel sighed.

Erestor shook his head as he read the letter. “This is extremely disrespectful. I cannot believe he wrote this. He used to be so different.” Erestor handed the letter back. “He is lucky I do not know where he is right now. He deserves to have that letter shoved up his ass.”

“Just going to roll it up and shove it up in there?” questioned Fingon, and this made Glorfindel smile just a little bit.

“Roll it up? Certainly not. He hardly deserves a courtesy roll,” said Erestor, and Glorfindel burst out laughing.

“Oh, good! I worry when I do not hear your laughter,” Fingon admitted as he snuggled against Glorfindel. “You know, from now on, I think we should just toss any letters from him into the fire.”

“What if it is something important?” asked Glorfindel.

“Again, evidence of your ability to take the higher ground.” Fingon rubbed the back of Glorfindel’s neck. “He is like the wind -- all huff and puff, but far less powerful than he seems to think he is. It reminds me of the story of the dual between the wind and the sun.”

“I am not familiar with that,” said Glorfindel as he relaxed a little.

Erestor relocated to Glorfindel’s other side, and slid an arm around to massage his back while Fingon continued to work on Glorfindel’s shoulders. “It may be familiar as you listen to the tale,” said Erestor. “The wind and the sun were talking one day about which one was stronger and saw an Elf walking down a path. The wind boasted that he was so strong he would be able to remove the coat of the Elf, while the sun said he could do the same -- though he allowed the wind the chance to go first. The wind blew, and the Elf pulled the cloak closer. The wind blew harder, and the Elf clung to the fabric and yanked the hood over his head. The wind blew as hard as he could, and the Elf wrapped the cloak around himself and took cover in a cave. Finally, the wind gave up -- but the sun reminded the wind he had a turn. And the sun came out from behind the clouds and shined bright onto the path. The Elf emerged, and loosened his grip on the cloak. The sun shined brighter, and the Elf pushed back his hood. The sun shined as bright as he was able, and the Elf wiped his brow and removed his cloak.”

“So the moral of the story is… just to be kind,” said Glorfindel.

“That, and since you are the sun, if you shine a little brighter, you might get Erestor and I to take more than our cloaks off,” said Fingon with a wink.

“This is why we do not allow Fingon to tell fables to children,” said Erestor.

“I am perfectly fine when it comes to children,” defended Fingon. “However, when it comes to after-dinner activities, and finding ways to get Glorfindel to smile again, I am not beneath a little base humor to liven things up. Also, the alternative is searching the island for Faelion so that I can punch him in the face. Unless that is what you want me to do,” said Faelion. “Because if it is, I will. Just say the word.”

“No, thank you,” said Glorfindel quietly.

When none of them found more words to say, Fingon began to hum the song he had sung earlier. Erestor settled back and closed his eyes, and Glorfindel looked over the letter again. Suddenly, he crushed the letter with one hand, and used the other to crumpled it into a ball, which he threw in the direction of the fireplace. It did not quite make it, but the dog thought it was a game, and ran over to grab the paper ball, which was soon shredded and spread around the room.

“How brightly do I have to shine to get you out of that tunic?” questioned Glorfindel as he fingered a lock of Fingon’s hair. 

“Mmm… maybe just a little brighter,” said Fingon.

“Well, I am at a loss for how to accomplish that, but I do believe if you discard your clothing like the Elf in that little story, you may just be fortunate enough to see the sun-rise.”

“Clever,” complemented Erestor.

“How does that - oh… nice.” Fingon smirked. “The meaning of what you said just dawned on me.”

“I know the two of you like your puns,” said Erestor, “and I do not intend to make you stop. The moon, however, is very fickle, and is waning. So if we might find a more comfortable place for relaxation and rest to follow, I would be most grateful.”

Fingon nuzzled Glorfindel, but reached past him to stroke Erestor’s cheek with his fingertips. “The moon is impatient - with good reason,” he decided, before he sang a different tune:

By the light   
Of the silv’ry moon,  
I want to spoon,   
To my honeys I’ll croon love’s tune,  
Honeymoon   
Keep a-shinin’ in June,  
Your silv’ry beams   
Will bring love dreams,   
We’ll be cuddling soon,  
By the silvery moon.

“I am in favor of all of those things,” Erestor said.

Fingon sat up a little straighter. “Even a June honeymoon?” he challenged.

Erestor scratched behind his ear and tilted his head. Sometimes, the most important things come up when you least expect them. “This June or next June?” he countered.

Fingon shrugged, and looked at Glorfindel. “This June or next June?” 

Glorfindel looked over Fingon a moment before he turned to look at Erestor. “So… is that…”

“I think I just proposed,” confirmed Fingon, “without any former plan to have done so. Unless you want me to pretend that was not what that was,” he rushed, and his voice wavered in one of his rare moments of uncertainty. “Then again,” he continued on, “Elvish weddings are not to be missed in June under the stars.”

Glorfindel and Erestor locked their gazes, and experienced an almost simultaneous epiphany. Glorfindel was smiling, though it was unseen by Fingon, it was evident as he spoke. “I had the strangest feeling…”

“Mmmhmm,” agreed Erestor. “Like… just that little… flicker of Imladris. That… little moment where you just… touch the past for a split second.”

“So… is that a yes to June, or is that… not a good idea?” 

“Yes to… this,” said Erestor, and he motioned between the three of them. “To… official… all of this. Details to follow.”

“I like that plan. Details to follow,” repeated Fingon. He looked to Glorfindel. “And you?”

“Oh… I thought… I mean, what Erestor said--”

“You are important and your feelings are valid and I want you to have a voice… everything,” said Fingon. 

Glorfindel smiled, and his cheeks glowed a bit. “I like June,” he said. “June really is a nice month for weddings. Just… nothing big. Not like that circus I had with Faelion.”

“And… no offense Glorfindel,” spoke up Erestor, “but no surprises. It does not need to be extravagant, just thoughtfully planned out.”

“That all seems very reasonable,” agreed Fingon.

“What of you?” asked Glorfindel of Fingon.

Fingon smiled and reached forward to take hold of Glorfindel’s hand in his left and Erestor’s hand with his right. “I will be happy with whatever the two of you decide,” he said, and he lifted their hands to his lips to kiss both of them at the same time. “Some people want the moon. Some demand the sun. All I did was ask, and now I shall have both.”

**Author's Note:**

> Excerpt from “By the Light of the Silvery Moon” ; Lyrics by Edward Madden ; public domain ((c) 1909)
> 
> Excerpt from “You Are My Sunshine” ; Slightly questionable on origins but probably Jimmie Davis and Charles Mitchell ; possibly not in public domain ((c) 1939) but the state song of Louisiana -- and since I don’t think anyone is going to sue an entire state, I’m extra doubtful anyone’s going to be upset it’s used in a fanfic
> 
> I think this will end up being the last part of the Freedom! series, but this just happened and it's here now, so, I'll figure that out later.
> 
> Also, the more I write about these three, the more I need a Fingon talks with Grandpa about all this stuff story, so that Finwe can be like 'back in my day, the Valar were busybodies -- do what makes you happy'. That's for another time, though. It's like, 3 am and I need the plot bunnies to take a nap so I can, too.


End file.
